


To throw a Hail Mary

by Elisexyz



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Fix-It: s01e06 Rare Species, Fix-It, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24110404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Jaskier almost leaves.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 80
Kudos: 398





	To throw a Hail Mary

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [To throw a Hail Mary](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24776989) by [kseniamayer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kseniamayer/pseuds/kseniamayer)



> Written for the Tumblr prompt: "But I don't want to leave." + Geraskier. There are never enough 1x06 fix-its in the world. Enjoy!

Jaskier almost leaves.

When Yennefer appeared, he _knew_ things would take a turn for the worse: if when it’s just him and Geralt he can sometimes allow himself to _hope_ , to wallow in a little fantasy world where his feelings might be reciprocated, there is no mistaking the truth for anything else when _she_ is around to remind him that he’ll always come second, at best.

He tried to ignore it. The whole time, he ignored every longing look Geralt threw her way, he made a pathetic attempt at pulling Geralt towards himself and he _still_ went to _her_ — he could only cling to the idea that it would be temporary, that Yennefer would _go_ , as she always does, and it’d be him and Geralt again.

Apparently, he can’t get _that_ either.

His eyes sting and his stomach has somehow managed to sink all the way to his knees, and Jaskier almost leaves, because that rejection is only the natural progress of things, because Geralt has been setting him aside ever since she showed up — he _wants_ to leave. He’s tired and hurt and he wants to be _okay_.

He wants to go _home_ , he thinks, and the notion is _absurd_ , because he hasn’t had what one would call a home in a very long time, having chosen the wonders of travel and not feeling quite alright keeping still for too long. The closest he could perhaps come to the concept is that _feeling_ of peace and quiet – only broken by his own chatter, of course – whenever he and Geralt set camp somewhere and it’s just them and Roach and everything _fits_ — like something in him can finally still and whisper: _Here. This is where you are supposed to be_.

He has known Geralt for more than half his life. He can hardly imagine not _having_ him ever again, it’s been _twenty-two years_ , for fuck’s sake, and — and just like that, anger bursts in his chest.

Because it’s been so _long_ and he deserves _better_ than this. If Geralt wants to push him away, he’d better grant him the courtesy of a _proper_ break-up, of a long, heart-wrenching conversation explaining the how and the why and giving him some proper _closure_ after twenty-two years of friendship.

It might not be that long for a Witcher, but for _him_ — fuck this, he’s not _leaving_ , not like this, not so _easily_.

When he begins marching back towards Geralt in big, angry strides, his stomach boiling and his fingers itching, it’s with the intention of yelling. If Geralt thinks that he can cut him off _just like that_ with a few cruel words – Jaskier has heard way worse when he was way younger and _fuck him_ , he’ll have to do better than _this_ – he is wrong and he will give him a _piece of his mind_ —

He sees him standing with his back turned, so ridiculously tense that if he didn’t know any better Jaskier would think that he’s anticipating to fight a monster of some kind, and it’s so _familiar_ that Jaskier’s heart clenches painfully, and the only thing that he can think is that he wants to _keep him_ , that Geralt has been one of the very few things in his life that hasn’t turned out to be temporary, and he doesn’t want it to end now.

He does the only thing he can think of doing, a little panicky and probably also mildly suicidal given the possibly disastrous outcome, and instead of yelling he keeps walking until he is crashing against Geralt’s back, wrapping his arms around him as tightly as he can.

If Geralt wants to slice him in half for this, great, at least it won’t be _him_ doing the leaving.

Geralt doesn’t kill him. Instead, he goes very still, arms hanging loosely by his sides while Jaskier just keeps _clinging_ , as if that could somehow be enough.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Geralt eventually growls, and it’s supposed to be _angry_ , but Jaskier has known him for too long, and it sounds a lot like he’s terrified.

Jaskier, eyes burning like wildfire and a very annoying lump in his throat, holds on even tighter, because he’ll hardly hurt him and he really, _really_ doesn’t want to let go. The sword on his back makes everything a little uncomfortable, but he couldn’t care less.

“You are an asshole,” is the first thing that he says, his voice trembling just a little. “And I’m doing this to spite you, because you may want me _gone_ , but I don’t _want_ to leave.” He takes a breath, somehow thinking that it will help him keep himself in check, but instead it only seems to fuel the tears pushing behind his eyes. “Also, you probably need this,” he adds, because he knows it’s true. When Geralt is this much of a bastard, it’s usually because he’s _hurting_ , badly enough that he doesn’t know what to do with it. “Asshole.”

Geralt could shake him off. He could shake him off the same way he could have gotten on Roach and left him behind without so much of a parting word, the same way he could have walked away every time they crossed paths again over the years, the same way he could have left alone in the early morning instead of shaking him awake.

Jaskier won’t let him get away with saying that he never wanted him around and that he’s only brought misery in his life, because it’s _horseshit_ , and even if for a moment, standing there and listening as Geralt spat his own pain back in his face, he honestly doubted everything he ever thought he knew about himself and about _them_ , he refuses to believe that Geralt doesn’t care about him, not when he has twenty-two years yelling just the _opposite_.

Geralt could have left any time, and he could push him away _now_. Instead, he keeps still, some tension eventually melting away from him as he brings one hand up, his fingers digging into Jaskier’s arm.

He might just cry from relief, honestly, if not because of everything else that just happened.

“Do you really want me to go?” Jaskier eventually has the courage to ask, hoping for definitive proof that the storm really has blown over and he doesn’t have to keep holding them together with both hands.

Geralt stays silent for a few, painfully long moments, but he’s still holding onto his arm. He squeezes him a little tighter as he answers, roughly: “No.”

Jaskier breathes, a small smile tugging at his lips in spite of everything as he nods, his cheek still pressed tightly against Geralt’s shoulder and something finally unclenching in his chest. “Good,” he mutters. “You would have had to kick me off this mountain otherwise.”

He doesn’t dare looking, but he likes to think Geralt might be smiling too.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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